


Eavesdroppers Never Hear Anything Good About Themselves

by Bumpkin



Series: Clearing the Air [1]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Robin (Comics), Teen Titans (Comics)
Genre: Bad Parents Jack and Janet Drake, Gen, Kon is a Good Bro, Post-Robin: Unmasked, Smart and Sneaky Tim Drake, Titans Issue 14, and straight man for Tim
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-07
Updated: 2020-09-07
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:22:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,799
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26339446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bumpkin/pseuds/Bumpkin
Summary: Jack's stomach gave an odd little flutter. There it was again, that strange non-expression Tim tended to fall into whenever he thought he wasn’t being observed anymore. Like the happy face he'd worn all afternoon was a mask; that he hadn't actually enjoyed spending the afternoon together like Jack had thought.That warranted further exploration, so he followed after Tim so they could talk.Tim's door wasn't completely closed, so the sound of voices coming from the room hit his ears just before he opened it further.Jack decided to listen in.
Relationships: Jack Drake & Tim Drake, Tim Drake & Kon-El | Conner Kent
Series: Clearing the Air [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1913980
Comments: 23
Kudos: 267





	Eavesdroppers Never Hear Anything Good About Themselves

**Author's Note:**

> A good portion of the beginning of the first (Up until pg 4) has taken a lot of dialogue wholesale from Teen Titans #14 (2003) before I went wildly AU. Then there are excerpts from a whole wagonload of other comics in the rest. Beta kudos go out to the wildly talented and supportive chibinightowl, Askanis, and Veriatas from the Capes and Coffee Discord Server. Never would have gotten this done, or have it turn out half as well, without their invaluable help!

Part One: Eavesdroppers Never Hear Anything Good About Themselves

(Wordcount: 5,792)

"...in a second, Dad. Just got some homework to finish," Tim said as he started up the stairs.

"Hurry it up. The movie starts in twenty minutes and the popcorn's popping." Jack followed his son out of the kitchen and stopped at the bottom of the stairs, pausing as his son’s words sank in. "Tim," he called after him.

"Yeah, Dad?" Tim paused halfway up the stairs.

"You helped me clean out the garage, mow the lawn, and you _still_ have the energy to do your homework?"

"Are you kidding? I haven't gotten _this_ much sleep in my _life_." There was a funny little twist to his mouth as he said it, but Jack made himself shrug it off as unimportant and just stared after his son. 

He continued up the stairs and Jack's stomach gave an odd little flutter. There it was again, that strange non-expression Tim tended to fall into whenever he thought he wasn’t being observed anymore. Like the happy face he'd worn all afternoon was a mask; that he hadn't actually enjoyed spending the afternoon together like Jack had thought. 

That warranted further exploration, so he followed after Tim so they could talk. 

Tim's door wasn't completely closed, so the sound of voices coming from the room hit his ears just before he opened it further. 

Alarm and anger rushed through Jack. The only way someone else could have gotten into his son's room and not passed him on the stairs was via the window - and that meant there was a so-called hero with his son right now. 

The urge to barge in and tell them to get lost was strong, but rather than giving in to the impulse, Jack decided to listen in. Despite his efforts to get his son to open up, Tim still wasn’t talking or sharing much with him, so how else was he going to learn about what he’d been up to over the years? Eavesdropping wasn’t exactly the best way to go about this, but what other option did he have at this point?

Absolutely none.

"What are you doing here, Conner?"

He crept closer, trying to make as little sound as possible. Who was Conner? Was he one of the Bat-freaks or not? Leaning against the wall close to the door frame, Jack slid down to the floor and settled in to find out.

"You mean _how_ did I find…Tim Drake?" There was a weighted pause before the voice of 'Conner' said his son's name. "Do you know how many Drakes are in the Gotham area? I've been perched on a gargoyle _all night_ , sifting through the voices around here. I've never heard so many people _whine_ in mylife. Is _anyone_ happy here?" 

This had to be someone someone from out of town because Gothamites were nothing if not proud of their ability to live through Gotham's bouts of madness. Then Jack shook his head at the casual mention of perching on a gargoyle. What? Who even did that? 

"I am,” came Tim’s quiet answer.

The statement seemed to take some wind out of this Conner person's sails, but then he rallied quickly. "Why didn't you show at the Tower yesterday? And what's with this _new_ Robin? The _girl_?" 

Tower? From the emphasis it sounded like something important and Jack swallowed a frustrated huff. A new _girl_ Robin? He felt an odd kind of indignation at hearing there was a new Robin; it certainly hadn’t taken the Bat-freak long to replace his son. Perhaps now Tim would understand why he’d done what he did since he'd been so quickly replaced.

Tim just sighed heavily. "Last week, my Dad found an old version of my costume, and some other stuff planted along with it. He figured out I was Robin and went a little...overboard. I'd been wanting to tell him for a long time anyway, but—"

Planted? What did he mean by that? Had he been meant to find what he did? And what did Tim mean by overboard? As a parent, he’d done exactly what he'd needed to do to get his son away from someone who clearly needed some serious therapy. At least Tim said that he’d wanted to tell him so he hadn't been lying about that a week ago, but a long time? How long was a long time? 

There was another of those weirdly weighted pauses before Conner asked, "But?"

"I quit," Tim replied in a voice so soft that Jack had to strain to hear it.

"You _what_?" Conner’s reaction more than made up for his son’s tone. Shocked, upset, you name it. But why? What did it matter to him? 

"I'm not Robin anymore. I gave it up." 

"Why?"

"I’ve never liked living two lives or planned on doing it for this long. And I never wanted to lie to my dad. Now I don't have to anymore."

Jack's stomach felt strange again because Tim's voice was utterly dead when he explained. There was some gratification that Tim said yet again that he hadn’t liked lying to him, but that didn't help when his son sounded so unhappy. And again, that mention of how long he'd been acting as Robin — two years wasn't that long a time, although he remembered that two years to a teen felt a lot longer than it actually was. 

Conner drew his attention back to the conversation when he burst out with, "Come on, you can't do this to the Titans. That _girl_ isn't… she's _not_ Robin." 

Okay, so Conner wasn't one of the 'Bats'. He seemed to have ties to the group known to the world as the Teen Titans. Jack had known intellectually that 'Robin' had been part of the group, but it hadn't really sunk in that his son was that person. 

Wait, there’d been nothing about the Titans in any of those journals that he'd found? Wouldn't Tim have written about any teams he was on if they were actually his? 

"I'm not doing this to _anyone_ , Con," Tim snapped, but his voice gentled when he continued. "I just want to try and live a normal life for once. I want to spend time with my dad while I can. In a few years, I'm going to go off to college. I don't know what I'm going to be yet, but I want to make him proud. Besides… Gotham and Batman _still_ have a Robin."

Jack felt no small measure of pride at hearing how Tim wanted the same things he did, his much better priorities. The bit about Gotham still having a Robin couldn’t care less about but he was so proud about the other things his son had said. He would have to figure out a way to let Tim know without letting on he'd eavesdropped.

Conner's voice was cold. "So you approve of this new Robin? You want her to be in the Titans?"

The dead tone returned to Tim's voice. "I don't have any choice in the matter. But she's a strong person. She really is."

The latter half of what Tim had said was delivered in a rote fashion, like he was trying to convince himself along with his audience but not exactly succeeding.

"The new Robin is your ex-girlfriend, isn't she? Spoiler, or whatever she used to call herself."

Jack was stunned. Steph, that sweet girl Tim had introduced to him and Dana was another vigilante? She was the new Robin? Tim had mentioned their break-up, but this had to be salt in the wound. Even he had to admit that was a painful blow to his son’s pride. 

Because Tim was proud of everything he’d done, there was no mistaking that. Even during all the arguments since Tim had quit prancing about in tights, he’d have to be deaf and blind to miss it. Just what had his son done with the Bat-freak? Or with the Titans? There were so many more questions he didn’t have answers to, questions he wasn’t sure he _wanted_ answers to. But this was Tim, _his_ son, so he deserved them, even if he had to eavesdrop to do it.

"Let it go."

Jack was snapped out of his thoughts when Tim barked what could only be called the order. The sheer presence and power in those three words had _him_ wanting to obey, and the words hadn't even been directed at him. Jeez, who was his son? How was he able to harness such command? 

It was starting to dawn on him that perhaps he really didn't know Tim at all. Didn't know what he was capable of, didn't know what motivated him… just didn't know much period. What kind of father did that make him? 

One that had really screwed up, that’s what.

Conner’s next words were so quiet that Jack almost missed them. "You're my best friend, Tim. How can I? The Teen Titans aren't the same without Robin. We just aren't."

Best friend? Jack wondered again which costumed kid Conner was because Tim's answer was just as quiet. "Just because I'm not wearing a cape doesn't mean we can't hang."

"It won't be the same. I've heard that from too many friends. Friends I never talk to anymore…" Conner sounded defeated.

The first infestimile stirrings of guilt made itself known to Jack. Not enough that he had any kind of regret of getting Tim the hell out of that Bat-freak's clutches, but for the other relationships he hadn't known would be affected. 

There was a heavy silence in the room for a time. "Why'd you really quit?" Conner asked in a low tone, like asking a second time would get him a different answer.

"I told you, my dad-" Tim started to say but Conner cut him off harshly.

"No, I get that your dad found some stuff, and don't kid yourself that you aren't going to explain that part either because I know you man, you aren't that careless. But how did that lead to you quitting?"

Tim sighed. “Someone repurposed an old hiding spot I had built into my closet and stashed an old uniform and some stupid forged ‘war journals’ I never wrote in it. There was absolutely no security and it was obvious enough that someone as well-versed in archaeology like my dad could find it. The journals were factual enough to give Dad enough information to go and confront Batman in his home, with a gun. He said that if I didn't quit, then he was going to the press." 

" _What?!_ " Conner sounded more horrified than Jack thought warranted. "Did he want you dead? Did _he_ want to die? How does he not understand that your secret identities are all that stands between everyone you care about becoming targets? There are so many bad guys out there who would love to kill you. _Rao_ , some of Batman's Rogues are right out of a nightmare. Not to mention some of the ones we've taken down with YJ and the Titans."

Okay, Jack thought, letting out a slow and silent breath as Conner’s words sank in. Going to the press was a bigger threat than he'd actually understood it to be. No wonder Tim had caved so quickly.

Then Conner choked. "Wait, you said he went to confront Bats with a _gun_? After he figured out who Bats was, the guy who has issues from watching his parents gunned down in front of him to the point where he now runs around in a batsuit, and he still went with a gun? Tim, man, I don't know whether your dad is capital 'S' stupid or even more ballsy than you."

Tim didn't say anything to that and Jack didn't know how to feel when his son didn't defend him automatically. That in and of itself was a telling sign about the state of their relationship.

In retrospect, maybe the Conner kid had a point. It had been a bit insensitive to threaten Bruce Wayne with a gun— not unjustified, Jack was quite firm on that point but when you put it into perspective… Yes, perhaps not the best idea. He'd believed he would need the weapon to give him an edge when he went to Wayne Manor to rescue his kid from the other man's clutches. He was losing his son to him, to Batman, who didn't seem to mind risking Tim's life for his asinine crusade. He just hadn't realized that the best weapon was the power of the press.

"Okay, I get why you quit now. You were really up against a wall there." Tim hmmed in what sounded like agreement and Conner took that as a cue to continue. "I just don't get it, Rob. After all this time, what prompted him to get nosy now?"

"Various things, I would guess. My stepmom Dana has been a good parental influence for him even though she's never been a parent herself— she’s got good instincts for it. Mostly though... I think it was because his company went bankrupt."

What? Why would Tim think that? 

"How do you figure?”

Thank you, Conner! The kid might not have phrased it the way he would, but the question meant an explanation was forthcoming. 

His happiness tanked quickly when Tim answered in a matter of fact tone. "Because before the company went under, business and their hobbies always took precedence. It took me a while to figure this out, but I believe that he and my mother liked the _idea_ of family, but not so much the reality of it. Before my mom died, I think my parents would be home for about two months collectively over the course of a year, on average. Not consecutively either— one week here, two there. They didn't even bother calling. They _did_ try somewhat to keep me apprised of where they were at any given time by sending me postcards."

"Postcards?" Conner didn't sound impressed.

"Yeah." Tim was as unimpressed as his friend. "Honestly, Conner, my parents were strangers to me. Strangers who would occasionally check-in to make certain that my grades were still at an acceptable level for their image. They never bothered to find out what mattered to me or what my interests were."

Jack was floored. Was that really how Tim saw things? Were he and Janet away that often? Did they really show so little interest in their son? No wonder the Bat-freak was able to sink his claws into him.

"That's messed up, man."

For once, Jack silently agreed with Conner. It was messed up. _He_ had messed up. Big time.

Tim, on the other hand, didn't seem to think it was as terrible as Conner. "It is what it is. It wasn't all bad. I mean, I wouldn't have been able to do half the stuff I got away with if my parents had been anything near normal, right?"

"No kidding. When you finally told us who you were under the mask for real, it explained so much. Especially after you told us about some of the crap you got up to. Well, after some of us did some digging anyway, not naming names."

"You don't need to, I already know," Tim deadpanned.

Conner groaned. "Of course you already know,you freak. You Bats and your need to know everything. Do I need to tell you how irritating that is?" 

Tim laughed easily, like he’d heard this before. "No, you don’t. We do it to each other too, you know. We know exactly how irritating we are." Conner laughed too and Tim went back to the previous point as if the aside hadn't happened. "Seriously though, if my parents hadn't been the way they were, I never would have been able to sneak out to follow Batman and Robin like I did, or even become Robin at all, actually."

Jack was glad he was already sitting down in the hall, because if he hadn’t, his knees would have gone out on him. His _son_ was saying that he used to regularly sneak out at night — into the absolute _worst_ parts of Gotham — to chase after Batman? He was suggesting that he'd become Robin before Janet died? What?

"You know, you never did tell me that story. The one about how you became Robin."

Jack closed his eyes. He wasn’t sure how much more of this he could take. The journals hadn't mentioned anything about how Tim became Robin. How much had been complete bullcrap with bare nuggets of truth strewn in to get him to react in a certain way? Who would want him to react like he had? Or was the way things had fallen out actually been the point? 

"I didn't? Oh, umm, actually yeah I probably didn't tell you because it's more than a bit embarrassing." 

"If I promise to never tell anyone else, will you tell me the story now?"

Tim huffed out a laugh. "Sure, and I don't really care who you tell since I don't have to look them in the face anymore." It was Conner's turn to laugh at that. "Okay, so way back in the day, my parents took me to see Haly's Circus. That’s how I met Dick. I think you know how the rest of that night played out already.” 

"Yeah, the original Robin origin story." 

Jack grit his teeth in frustration— _he_ didn't know the story. He vaguely remembered that night and the acrobats falling to their deaths. How could Tim have remembered? He’d only been what, three at the time? Four?

Tim still sounded embarrassed as he continued. "Right, well, I kinda developed a bit of a fixation on both Dick and Batman after that — and Robin too after he started to appear. Followed them in the papers, on TV, basically tried to get my hands on everything I could. It was a few years later, I was watching the news and saw Robin do a quadruple somersault. I remembered that as Dick’s signature move, something only the Flying Graysons could do, and used that to figure out who Robin, and by extension Batman, were under their masks."

What the hell? 

"Wait, you were how old when you figured out the best kept secret in the freaking galaxy?"

Conner sounded just as shocked as Jack felt.

"About nine, I think."

Jack blinked rapidly as his shock transformed into an odd feeling of pride. He knew Tim was brilliant but this was beyond anything he could comprehend. Such a magnificent mind his son had been wasting with the vigilante bullcrap. 

Conner's reaction amused him, the snort echoing out of the room loud and clear. "Precocious little twerp, weren't you?"

Tim sounded aggravated. "Do you want to hear the story or do you want to mock me?"

"Story, please."

"Anyway, once I figured out my personal hero was actually a real hero, I decided that I was going to make use of my other hobby, photography, to get more information. Really though, if my parents hadn't been gone all the time, I wouldn't have been able to do what I did. If they’d been normal parents, they would have noticed when I sneaked out at night."

Jack was horrified all over again. He'd almost forgotten that particular revelation. He could have lost his son long before Wayne got his hooks into him. Actually, it was a miracle that he hadn't, Tim didn’t have the training back then to survive. 

"Oh my god, you were a fanboy!"

Conner's voice was filled with a lot more glee than Jack felt was warranted. 

But Tim's drier than dust response had him stifling a chuckle.. "You have no idea. I said this would have been embarrassing to tell anyone before I hung up my cape."

"So how does your being the epically ultimate fanboy translate into you becoming Robin?" 

"I’m getting there," Tim replied, managing to sound patient and testy at the same time. His mother used to do the same thing. "At a very independent nine years of age, I figured out Batman and Robin's patrol schedule and pinpointed the best places on their routes to get pictures. To cut a long story short, I was witness to when Robin graduated to Nightwing and then later to when there was a new Robin." 

"I remember hearing about him," Conner said. "He died, right? And Batman went kinda off the deep end for a while?"

Jack clenched his hands to stop them from shaking. A Robin had _died_? Wait, hadn’t Bruce adopted a boy from some rather unfortunate beginnings who later died? He hadn’t been in town when it happened, but he heard it through the grapevine and… Oh. Now some of what Tim said before made more sense. He really hadn’t been around.

Tim’s voice was heavy. "Yeah. He did. And that’s why I decided, at the ripe age of twelve, that Batman needed a Robin. I know that sounds very childish, but I'd actually done a lot of research and had a large amount of data that backed it up."

"You wouldn’t be you if you didn’t," Conner replied wryly. 

Jack concurred, that _was_ something he did remember of his son’s habits— Tim always had researched and documented the things that caught his interest to insane levels. It was another thing he’d inherited from Janet--she would do the same thing.

"Hush." Jack could tell Tim was smiling as he said it. "In the beginning, Batman wasn't seen as a force for good and didn’t have the cooperation of the police. After Robin made his appearance, that changed. I have proof of it. It was when I was reading this, coupled with what I had seen on his patrols after Jason died, that I developed my theory of Batman _needing_ a Robin. So, I went to New York to try and convince Dick that he needed to come back."

"Right, because that makes perfect sense, Rob. He was already Nightwing, complete with the disco suit that will forever live on in infamy."

"We don’t speak of that uniform. Ever." Tim laughed quietly. 

“Really? I heard there’s a special case for it in the cave.”

“I still haven’t figured out if it’s Alfred or Bruce that’s the real hoarder.” Tim laughed, then continued. "Anyway, the whole New York thing didn’t go over well. I think Dick was utterly freaked out by twelve-year-old me, which was fair. I don't know how I would react to some random kid who talked about my secret identity like it was common knowledge. Needless to say, he took me back to Gotham where a bunch of crap was going down and I got left with Alfred while he went to help Batman. We waited for hours for them to get back and I just knew that something had gone wrong. So I decided to do something about it and convinced Alfred to help me."

"What did you do?" Conner asked and Jack again thanked his lucky stars that this boy was here to ask the questions he wanted answers to as well.

Tim's voice was wry. "Fun fact, the first time I put on a Robin costume was without Batman's knowledge."

"How'd that go over?" Conner sounded like he knew the answer and Jack wasn't really stretching for it himself.

That desert dry tone Tim had inherited from his mother made an appearance again. "Not well. It was Dick's old one that I'd tried to convince him to wear before he went out to help Batman-"

"Wait, one of Dick's old Robin costumes, that would mean that-" Conner choked out before he started wheezing with laughter while Tim just growled. 

Jack wondered what was so funny.

"Yes, I did wear the scaly panties once," Tim snapped, his waspish tone another one of Janet’s. The boy really did take after his mother. "But it was only the one time!"

The what? Scaly panties? What in the hell was Wayne into?

Conner calmed down and got back on track. "So now that I have _that_ absolutely priceless mental image, what happened next?"

"Oh, just shut up," Tim muttered, barely loud enough to make out.

"No seriously, Rob; what happened?" Conner pressed.

Tim sighed. "I tangled with Two-Face, with Alfred's help mind you, and rescued Batman and Nightwing from where they’d had a building dropped on them. Afterward, I got to deal with a very unhappy Batman who was less than pleased to see me in the Robin suit."

"Ouch. What did he do?"

"Well, he asked about Two-Face, then ripped the domino off my face, telling me I wasn't Robin."

"Double ouch." 

“No kidding. That spirit-gum hurts when it’s yanked off like that.”

Conner laughed again before asking, "What changed his mind then? You became Robin so something else must have happened." 

"I, uh, talked him around?" Tim replied, sounding like he was evading the question.

“Talked him around, yeah sure,” Conner scoffed. "Seriously, how did you change his mind?"

Tim laughed quietly, which sounded more real than it ever had around Jack. "Well, in between slipping that I knew who he was beneath the mask, I also made an off the cuff speech about all the reasons why Batman needed a Robin. How he was a symbol and that Robin couldn't just disappear. Alfred said I should be a politician, while Dick said I would do more good with Bruce. The deciding factor was when I revealed I slipped a tracer onto Two-Face that allowed us to bag him that night."

Conner snickered in amusement. "Jeez man, always twenty moves ahead; even back when you were basically still a baby. Batman really didn't have to train you much did he? Between your sneaking around and him never having a clue you were there, the fact that you had figured out his secret, and the way you got the drop on the crook — you were kinda tailor made for the role of Robin, eh?"

"Well, when you put it that way..." Tim replied somewhat sheepishly. "There were only a few things he had to help me refine."

There was the return of that odd feeling of being weirdly proud and highly disturbed of his son. As much as the pride wanted to win out, he still didn't approve of how Tim used what were clearly innate skills he’d honed himself before Wayne got to him. It was a strange dichotomy. 

"So, after getting the okay to become Robin, how long was it before you were out flying on your brand new Batty wings?" Conner asked. That boy was a lifesaver. If he wasn’t a cape of some sort, Jack would actually like him. 

"About six months," Tim said after a moment of consideration. "I'd already been training on my own for a lot of the things I needed to become Robin and didn’t even know it. After Batman agreed to take me on, I took full advantage of my parents absences, and basically spent every waking hour between training and school. When Bruce finally told me I was ready, I didn’t feel like I was, so I went the extra mile to get some additional training in Europe for another month. Of course, that turned into another adventure I'm not going to get into right now..." 

Tim’s voice trailed off at the end and Conner laughed while saying, "Why am I not surprised?"

“Let’s just say Hong Kong wasn’t on my itinerary.”

Conner just laughed harder.

Jack wasn’t as amused as Conner at the idea of his son getting into more trouble in the guise of training. No, the thought of Tim in danger again and again — even before he’d hit the streets officially as Robin — had him swallowing hard as his stomach churned. 

His earlier guess was right. Tim became Robin before his and Janet's trip to Haiti. Wayne hadn't pulled him into his crusade after getting temporary custody while he’d been in a coma. His son had willingly walked into it of his own free will before that disaster even happened. 

Feeling about a hundred years old, he rose on shaky legs and pushed away from the wall. Making his way down the hall, he hoped his overly observant son didn’t hear him. He couldn’t handle anymore revelations tonight. His head swam from everything he'd learned and the sick feeling in his gut wasn't going anywhere, even if he bothered with antacids. 

Downstairs, he wandered into the living room and stared blankly at the wall. In the back of his mind, he was glad Dana had gone out with her girlfriends tonight; there was no way he’d be able to hide just how upset and shaken he was, not from her. He had to pull himself together before she got home though, because he now understood why the fewer people who knew Tim’s secret, the better.

What hurt the most was what his son really thought of him, that he was someone who was more interested in business than having a family. No wonder he believed his own parents might as well be strangers . 

Jack chewed on the inside of his lip, stewing on that. Tim’s math worked out for the amount of time he and Janet had spent in Gotham before Janet died. God, it was a wonder that they hadn’t been charged with neglect. True, Tim had been in boarding schools right from the start, but they weren't the year-round kind, and he’d been left on his own to navigate most of the breaks and holidays, hadn't he? Janet had always handled the school arrangements, so he wasn’t sure.

He buried his face into his hands. This, right here, was a prime example of just what kind of father he was.

No wonder he and his son were having such a hard time reconnecting. There was no 're' about it; he and Janet really had been strangers to their son. The baffled looks Tim kept giving him after he woke from the coma and wanted to spend time as a family now made so much sense. He hadn't been putting distance between them, he was just confused at how his father’s attitude about family had changed. There was no reference or even precedence for what Jack wanted since he hadn't ever actually acted like a father before.

His discomfort had him shifting uncomfortably on the couch.

How many times Tim had nearly died before he remembered he had a son? How many times he almost lost him and never even knew? 

Then it occurred to him. He would never have known. He would have come home to a dead body or even awoken from his coma only to visit a gravestone beside his dead wife. 

A sob wracked his body and tears burned in the corner of his eyes.

God, he really was a crap father, wasn't he? Tim had never been an individual. He'd just been some kind of extension to him and Janet, part of the formula of a successful life. 

He thought he'd made all the right moves and choices — go to the best schools (check), meet the best girl and marry her (check), take over the family business (check), have a son to carry on the family legacy (check), have a properly genteel hobby that would bring acclaim to the family name (check) — but something had gotten lost in the execution. 

His son. 

He'd forgotten that the son should have been included in his life.

Jack slumped into the couch, exhausted and full of disgust for himself. If there was one silver lining to this whole mess, he now understood that he couldn't keep trying to reconnect with his son the way he had been attempting — there was nothing to reconnect with. So many words were left unsaid, too much was unknown between them. 

Patching things up wasn't the answer. 

No, he had to treat his own son as he would a stranger. Treat his son as someone he didn't know, but one that he both wanted and needed to learn more about. 

The fact that he now had a workable plan was a slight weight off his shoulders. The rest was a work in progress.

Upstairs in Tim's room, a weighty sigh sounded from that very son. "He gone?"

Kon listened as his friend's father disappeared down the stairs. "Yeah. So, now that your dad isn't listening anymore, you gonna explain what all that was about?" 

Tim roughly rubbed his hand over his face. "He kept asking me for answers, but he didn't actually want to listen to what I had to say. He’s stuck in his own little world where Bruce is the bad guy and he’s the hero who ‘saved’ me. I needed a way to get him to actually listen. I can only hope it helped." 

"Okay, but there was a lot you candy-coated, Rob. Was that something you _really_ needed to do?" 

Tim smiled slightly. "Yeah, because if he heard certain things he wouldn't have… just listened," he finished lamely. "But hey, thanks so much for letting me know he was out there and playing along. I know you know most of that already."

Kon just shrugged and offered a smile of his own as he made his way over to the window. "No problem, man. What are friends for but to be minions in your convoluted, Batty games? Just keep in touch, yeah?"

"I'll do my best," was Tim's reply. He rose from his desk and followed over to the window as Kon slipped out and hovered in the air. 

"Take this." Tim handed him a burner phone he'd grabbed at some point because he really was a Bat at heart, even if he wasn’t wearing a mask anymore. "I set these up for an op that I clearly am not participating in anymore. Speed dial one is linked to the other phone, so nothing leads back to me. So we'll still be able to talk if needed and no security risk."

Kon laughed quietly and saluted his friend with the phone fondly. "Freak." And then he took off, barely visible in his dark shirt and jeans against the smog of Gotham's evening sky.

Tim closed the window, quietly glad that his little ruse with Kon went so well. It had been a risk, but one worth taking. Glancing at the door, then his desk and the homework he still had to finish, he decided it was better to give his dad some space rather than go downstairs to act all innocent and ready to watch a movie. 

If he wanted to play it later, he knew where to find him. 

-fin part one-


End file.
